Beneath a Beating Heart

by Lauri Robinson

  He was already on the other end of the hallway and spun around. With a grin that made her heart flipped, he held out a hand. “We have to figure that out together.”

  She took a step but stopped in order to press a hand to her temple, where a sharp pain briefly shot. It disappeared as quickly as it had formed, but her heart sank as she opened her eyes.

  The hall was empty, but the familiar hum said it was only empty in her time.

  Anger arose. This seeing him, then not seeing him could very well put her on the criminally insane list. If it kept up, she could go postal.

  She grabbed the mirror that floated in the air. “How’d you know I couldn’t see you?”

  His grin was enough to make her toes curl. “You quit arguing with me.”

  “No, I haven’t,” she said, walking down the hall beside him. “The only way to make sure this house isn’t burned down, is to make sure Lou and Nate don’t inherit it, and the only way to make that happen, is to―”

  “I’m not marrying Cindy,” he interrupted.

  “I don’t want you to,” she snapped.

  The mirror became stationary, and that caused her to stop mid-step.

  “Good. I’m glad we finally agree on that.”

  She shook her head. His eyes told her this was as frustrating for him as it was for her. “I never wanted you to marry her. I just thought that was the only way. If Robert isn’t born, there—”

  “Will be no Lou and Nate,” he finished. “That’s our ticket. We have to make sure Cindy doesn’t get pregnant.”

  He was moving again, down the steps quickly and she had to hurry to keep up. “How are you going to do that?” she asked.

  “I’ll go to town and talk to Cliff. Tell him to keep an eye on her.”

  “I’m sure Cliff is already keeping an eye on her, she is his niece.”

  “Then I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  The idea of completely eliminating Lou and Nate’s existence seemed harsh, and wrong. So wrong. When they arrived in the kitchen, she said, “I don’t think that’s the answer.”

  “I don’t either. But it’s a start. We have to start somewhere.”

  They both stood near the table. Rooted together in this room, yet separated by years and years.

  She searched for a way for thing to be different, for any possible solution, and knew he was too. “What if,” she said aloud as an idea formed, “you discover who is, or was, Robert’s real father? If he marries Cindy, then Cliff and Nan won’t raise Robert, and Nate and Lou won’t inherit this place.”

  He lifted a brow and gave her a rather saucy look. “You don’t think it was me?”

  Heat flushed her cheeks as her heart fluttered. “I never did.”

  “Good.” His grin disappeared as he glanced around the room. “If Cliff and Nan don’t raise Robert, who will inherit this place?”

  Deflated of the ounce of excitement that had formed, she sighed. “I don’t know.” Another thought flashed. “What’s in your will?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have a will. I haven’t written one yet.”

  “Maybe you need to put that your property can be sold.”

  “Then I won’t be here when you arrive.”

  “You’re right.” She rubbed her forehead. Beth had saved her from downing—that’s what had happened, she’d seen it—for a reason. He already knew about the baby, so that wasn’t it. “We need more time. That’s what we need. Time to see what works and what doesn’t.”

  He nodded. “Tomorrow’s fast approaching.”

  “Then it’s up to me,” she said. “I have to find a way to stop the firetrucks tomorrow. Postpone them.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “I don’t know, but Vivi Anne will help me. We’ll figure out a way.”

  He waved toward her bag still sitting on the chair. “You still have some of that water in a bottle you like?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “We could sit down, have a cup of coffee and a bottle of water and try to come up with something.”

  Urgency said she had to leave, but she didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to go anywhere that he wasn’t. Not ever. “All right.”

  He nodded toward the table. “I’d pull out a chair for you, but—”

  “I got it,” she said, resting her free hand on the back of the chair. She wasn’t sure where to look. He was setting the mirror down, but whether she could see him or not, knew he stood beside her. The flowers reflected in the mirror as it settled on the table and she smiled. “I really like the flowers. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “I really like you.”

  “I really like you, too, but I’m not—”

  “I’m going to get a cup of coffee.”

  She didn’t blame him for not wanting to hear her protest again. It was getting old and nauseating, but it was the truth. Beth’s soul may have saved her from drowning, but she wasn’t Beth. She could become more open minded about many things, but that was still unfeasible. There was no way she and Beth could be the same person. Absolutely no conceivable way. They were as different as night and day. Born in different centuries.

  Sensing his arrival even before the mirror shifted beneath her fingers, she sat down. Sunlight shining through the windows made the flowers reflecting in the mirror more cheerful than any she’d seen, and that made her smile. He was trying so hard and all she’d done was dispute the one thing he wanted.

  She pulled out the chair and sank onto the seat and while running her free hand through her hair. Giving him what he wanted was impossible, but there had to be a way to stop the fire department. There had to be.

  “Do you like music?”

  His question caught her off guard. “Everyone likes music. In my time we listen to it in our cars, in our homes and work places, even while on hold.”

  “On hold?”

  “When you call someone on the telephone, there’s often music to listen to while you wait for the other person to answer. Cell One’s had been awful. I’d made them change it to be more pleasant for the customers to listen to while waiting to be connected.”

  “The phone doesn’t just ring? That’s what the one in Cliff’s office does.”

  “Yes, it rings, too. Why did you ask about music?”

  “No reason,” he said. “Just wanted to know.”

  The victrola in the other room said either he or Beth liked music. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, an image of Beth sitting on the sofa listening to scratchy music flashed behind her eyes. Glancing into the mirror, she said, “Beth brought the victrola with her when she moved here, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, her mother gave it to her.”

  “But she never liked it. Beth didn’t like it.”

  “She said it sounded too scratchy, but she liked other music.”

  She nodded, once again knowing more than she should. “She loved to dance. The two of you danced a lot, at events…like barn dances.”

  “We did. Do you like to dance?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I never learned any specific steps, mainly because I didn’t like being that close to someone. Didn’t like them touching me.” There it was again, insight as to why she’d been the way she was. Is. The way she is.

  “You’d like dancing with me.”

  She laughed at his confidence. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  He was right, and that made all the things that couldn’t be once again weigh heavy. Even her hand felt heavy and as she glanced down at it, excitement once again appeared. She could see his hand lying atop hers.

  Slowly, cautiously, her gaze traveled up his arm, over his shoulder and neck, to his face. He was faintly translucent, but he was there. All of him. The sight of him sent a ripple of happiness throughout her system. “I can see you again,” she whispered. “I can feel your hand on mine.”

  He cocked his head and glanced toward their hands. “Let go of the mirror.”


  Praying she wouldn’t be disappointed, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations of feeling his hand lift hers off the mirror as she released the handle.

  “Open your eyes,” he said quietly. “Can you still see me?”

  Hearing him increased her excitement and gave her hope as she lifted her lids. “Yes. Yes, I can see you. Hear you. Feel you.”

  From the moment she first saw his reflection in the mirror, she’d admitted he was a handsome man, but seeing him in the flesh, albeit a bit see-through-ish, was amazing. His body was trim and fit and tall and buff, and as close to perfect as a man could be.

  “I can feel you, too,” he whispered while his fingers wrapped around her hand.

  “How? I don’t understand how this can happen and then not happen just as quickly.”

  “Perhaps it’s not something we need to understand.” He pushed his chair away from the table.

  She saw that too, the chair in his time. The table, the cup sitting next to the mirror, and she could still see her things, too. “This is crazy.”

  “No. It’s wonderful.” He tugged on her hand. “Come.”

  A flashback of what had happened upstairs had her shaking her head.

  “Just into the parlor, this time,” he said, as if reading her mind.

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Half afraid he’d disappear again, while also hoping he didn’t, she stood and followed through the arched doorway into the parlor. They crossed the room and he stopped next to the victrola. “What are you going to do?”

  “We are going to dance.”

  “I can’t dance.”

  “You can with me. I’ll show you.” He knelt and opened the door. Lifting out a record, he held it up for her to see. “Find this one in your time.”

  “I—”

  “Please?”

  “All right, but don’t blame me if I step on your feet.”

  He laughed. “I won’t. I’ll be happy to feel it.”

  Smiling, she agreed. “Me, too.” It was as crazy as everything, but she wanted this to work. She wanted to dance with him. Knew it would be memorable.

  She found the same record, but as she lifted the lid to put it on the machine, she said, “This is old. It might not work. The baffles and rubber seals, or the spring, might be too dried out.”

  He grinned. “We’ll find out, won’t we?”

  “But if I break it, it could lose value.”

  “It’s mine to break, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but, I’d be the one breaking it.”

  “With my permission. Now put the record on and wind it up.”

  It would take both hands and she was hesitant to let go of his. He was too, that reflected in his eyes, and they both grinned when he let go of her hand and could still see each other. “Am I thin to you?” she asked while putting the record on the turntable. “Not skinny, but see through thin.”

  “Yes.”

  It was odd, how their arms and hands merged without colliding while they each made the exact same movements putting the needle on the record and then cranking the handle on the side of the box. Within moments scratchy music started to play softly.

  “Can you hear that?” he asked.

  “Yes. Can you?”

  “Yes.”

  She grinned. “The sound is coming from your time and my time, at the same time.”

  His smile made her stomach flutter.

  “It’s coming from our time,” he said softly.

  The most marvelous thing happened then, he literally swept her into his arms and across the open space in the parlor. It was heavenly, as if she was a well-trained ballroom dancer. Her feet instinctively knew what to do, how to follow him, as did the rest of her body. His shoulder was firm and solid under one hand, the other hand felt the warmth of his palm pressed against hers.

  “See, you know how to dance.”

  “But I don’t know how—” Suddenly it was as if she had two left feet.

  “Yes, you do know how to dance,” he said while not slowing their movements despite her instant loss of rhythm. “Say it. Say you know how to dance.”

  “I know how to dance,” she said mainly to please him while struggling to keep up.

  “Say it again.”

  “I know how to dance.”

  “Again and again. Keep saying it.”

  “I know how to dance. I know how to dance.” Her feet were following his again and she could feel the rhythm of the two of them and the music. “I know how to dance. I know how to dance.” Each time she said it, the movements no longer took thought, they just happened. “I do know how to dance.” Excitement flared inside her. “I do!”

  “I knew that all along,” he said.

  “I think you are just an excellent teacher.”

  “Nope. You knew all along. You just didn’t realize it.”

  His smile was enough to make her believe that may be true and she no longer cared how or when she learned to dance. Sashaying around the room in his arms was too wonderful not to enjoy it.

  That’s exactly what she did, enjoyed it like nothing ever before. Her entire being grew content and happy, like sunshine filled her very soul as he led her around the room. When she took a moment to contemplate that, faded and far off images flashed behind her closed eyelids. She tried to bring them closer, to concentrate on them, but they were too fleeting, too elusive. Yet, she sensed they were of him and Beth. Images of the two of them dancing just like she and he were, but he’d been the one unsure.

  She opened her eyes as understanding flooded her foggy brain. “Beth taught you how to dance, didn’t she?”

  He nodded. “She did.”

  A strong desire to laugh tugged at her. “And you thought it couldn’t be done.”

  Once again, he nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  “She proved you wrong.”

  “That she did.”

  He said that with pride, and with love. Something she’d always claimed to know nothing about, but now concluded that was because she’d never had anything to compare it with until this very moment. Her heart actually felt full. Vivi Anne was right. A person didn’t know how to love until they experienced it.

  The music had stopped and so had they. He didn’t look as translucent. She could see the fine lines near his eyes created by his smile. See how dark brown his eyes were and how the sunlight caught in his dark hair, making it glisten. She drew in a deep breath, simply enjoying the sight of him, and the vaguely familiar scent that teased her nose caused a shift inside her.

  It smelled like leather and horseflesh and sunshine, all mixed together to form an aroma that as unique as it was wonderful. And one she knew. Knew very, very well. The idea, and the scent, snagged inside her brain. She hadn’t noticed anything familiar to it in the house before so where was it coming from? Why did it thrill her in ways she’d never really been thrilled before?

  She bit her lips together, clearly recognizing the thrill as a deep and specific one. It was Rance. And he smelled wonderful. Especially at night while they…Sex again. She was true-blue crazy.

  The smile on his face grew, as if he knew her thoughts as clearly as she did. He leaned forward, too.

  At this moment, being crazy was exactly what she wanted. Closing her eyes as his lips met hers, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Truly kissed him. She could feel his lips, and parted hers to slide her tongue along the thin seam of his lips.

  His lips parted and excitement exploded inside her as his tongue met hers.

  Now, this, actually feeling him, tasting him, was indeed crazy, but too wonderful to make her stop. She could feel his body as he pulled her closer, pressing her against him from hip to chest. His hands roamed over her back and then up to cup her cheeks as he took control of the kiss.

  Her fingers spread deep into his hair to hold on, keep herself grounded as his kiss practically lifted her off the ground.

  It felt that way, as if his kiss
was drawing her upward, beyond herself into a familiar yet unknown dimension. Not so unlike what had happened in the water, when Beth had saved her. As her feet nearly left the ground, a slice of fear ripped through her so fast she jolted backward, ripping her lips away from his.

  The room was spinning, and she pressed the heels of both hands to her temples. He called to her, but the pounding in her head made him sound faint and faraway. Growing wobbly, she reached for him, for something to hold onto. Her hand caught the edge of the victrola, but it wasn’t enough. Her knees buckled and she went down. Not hard, but fast enough hitting the floor stung her tailbone.

  She sat there as the spinning slowed. Panic wasn’t clawing inside her. There was no fear or terror. Realizing that, she lifted her head. The room was empty.

  “Rance?” She rose onto her knees first, testing her equilibrium. “Rance?”

  As a mirror appeared before her face she sank back onto her bottom. Disgust filled her. For as lovely as it was, there were moments she hated that mirror. With plenty of loathing, she grasped the handle.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. My fantasy must have gotten away with me.”

  “What?”

  She had never felt so pouty. Never wanted to scream and demand injustice stop picking on her. “Nothing.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  No, I’m not sure, she wanted to shout. I’m not fine. I was fantasizing about kissing a ghost to the point I could actually feel it! Knowing that wouldn’t get her anywhere, she said, “I’m sure.” She shook her head. “I just don’t understand how I can see you one minute, and then you’re gone.”

  “I can see you all the time.”

  “You don’t have to rub it in.”

  “What?”

  She pushed herself off the floor. Needing a moment, she let go of the mirror in order to take the record off the turntable. The mirror waving before her face couldn’t be ignored, and she grasped the handle again.

  “Want to dance again?”

  “No. I don’t want to dance again.” Whether she wanted to or not, she wasn’t going to. Dancing with him, seeing him, kissing him, wasn’t getting them any closer to solving this entire escapade. If there was some rhyme or reason to all the strange occurrences, she might be able to figure things out, but there wasn’t. “What are we going to do?”